Noss Mayo (Yealm ferry) – Bantham

Preamble:  getting there – 13 July 2026

Overnight: Worswell Barton Farm B&B, Noss Mayo (P & J Rogers)

Three buses a day run from Plymouth to Noss Mayo. I was due to arrive at Plymouth Station at 1613, in plenty of time to get to Royal Parade in the city centre to catch the last bus at 1740. This would get me to Noss Mayo at 1833, when I would have a meal in one of the two pubs in the village before walking with my bags the mile or so up the hill to the farm where I was staying the night. But best-laid plans …

The train was held up by a broken-down train ahead of it and eventually reached Plymouth at 1743, not even worth trying the dash into the centre for the bus. Demand for taxis was high but I eventually got a ride with a friendly young driver who was quickly out of his comfort zone as we worked our way through a maze of ever-narrowing lanes towards the farm. My plan now was to drop my bags at the farm, then get the taxi to drop me in the village where I’d eat before walking back. This worked out well and I had a pleasant meal at The Ship. The other Noss Mayo pub, The Crown, was closed on Mondays. The Ship was moderately busy for a Monday with groups sitting outside overlooking the water and enjoying the warm evening.

The light was beginning to fade as I walked up the steep first part of the path back to the farm, but as I came over the hill crest I was rewarded with a splendid sunset view back along the coast, with the dot of the chapel on Rame Head visible in the far distance.

14 July 2026

Distance on Coast Path: 22.5km (to Bigbury-on-Sea); ascent: 492m

Total distance: 22.8km; ascent: 492m

Walking time: 5h 26′

Total time: 9h 09′

Overnight: The Sloop Inn, Bantham

Here is a summary of my first objective of the day.

Erme crossing for Dummies

Phil and Jane run Worswell Barton Farm outside Noss Mayo, and couldn’t have been more welcoming or helpful. They do breakfast from 7 o’clock so any B&B guests like me who need an early start to get to the River Erme crossing for low tide can do so.

The Erme is one of the main rivers which rise on Dartmoor and flow south to reach the sea in a broad estuary. Most of these estuaries either have regular, seasonal or occasional ferries, or must be walked or driven around. The Erme has no ferry but is known to be wadeable within an hour either side of low tide, although walkers are warned the crossing may not be safe after heavy rain, storms or exceptional tides. Luckily none of those applied today. Low tide would be at around 12.00, so I needed to be at the crossing between 11.00am and 1.00pm.

I’d been very nervous about this first day: I was unfit; it was further than I’d walked for many months and with much more ascent, and as well as needing to get to the estuary in time I then had to finish the rest of the walk by 4.00pm to get the last ferry across the River Avon estuary to my overnight stay in Bantham.

Phil and Jane keep the local tide tables in their living room and gave my plan to leave at 7.45 their approval. “It takes three and a half hours to the crossing”, said Phil, “so you should be fine.” I was mentally allowing four hours, but that would be OK. They directed me across the field outside their farmhouse: “Make downhill to the bottom corner. You’ll see a gate which opens straight onto the Coast Path. This part is an old carriage drive so it’s pretty flat for the first few miles and you can make good time while you can.” I set off trying to look my most confident, but still anxious inside.

The Rogers were right about the first part of the morning. The old carriage road was a wide track, sometimes gravel, sometimes grassy, with easy gentle gradients and occasional cows. It was sunny and getting warm as the morning went by, with a strong easterly blowing in my face to cool me, and I made good time as far as Stoke, some seven kilometres into the walk.

After Stoke the Path became a narrow and twisting single track for a while before opening out again. A kilometre further a very steep descent off Beacon Hill needed care; the climb the other side of the dip was not quite as steep.

It was now 10 o’clock and although I had made good time I still had the niggling anxiety about the day’s timing so I decided to take a short-cut follow a High Level Variant by walking on the nearby road as far as Mothecombe village above the Erme estuary. This brought me to the crossing point around 1120. I would have crossed straight away but I was confused by the tide time displayed on the official information board: it gave low tide as closer to 2.00pm than 12.00. If this was right I needed to wait over an hour before crossing. Although there were a few people on the sands each side of the estuary there was no-one who looked as if they were about to cross. I dithered for a while, then decided to go with my original plan, remembering the wise words of the Rogers. “If the tide’s going out but you’re not sure about crossing you can always start, but check the depth as you go and if it looks too deep, go back and wait.”

View across the estuary from the Mothecombe side, looking towards Wonwell.

I don’t like crossing rivers barefoot: you never know what sharp objects might have washed up on the river bed. So I went onto the beach, took off my boots, looped the laces through the top of my rucksack and tied them together, put my socks in the rucksack pocket, set up my walking poles to help with balance, put on the faux-neoprene AquaShoes I’d bought a few weeks ago for £4.99 from Lidl, rolled my trousers up above my knees and set off over the sand towards the slip road on the far side.

The actual crossing was probably not much more than fifty or sixty metres. The water was clear and flowing steadily but not strongly; I could step and shuffle across without any problems. I even stopped mid-stream to take photos, though I was very cautious about not dropping my phone or a walking pole. At its deepest the water didn’t quite come up to my knees.

Looking back from midstream

Midstream

The far side (Wonwell beach) from midstream

At the far side I dried my feet, put my boots back on and left the AquaShoes by the side of the slipway for anyone to help themselves. I was glad to have done the crossing without mishap, and I was half an hour ahead of the time I’d set myself to reach the Avon ferry by 4.00pm so all was good as I set off for the second stage of the day. Until …

Until my right knee started hurting when I went downhill. I had to step carefully and try not to bend it. Then it started hurting going uphill too. The half hour I had in hand quickly evaporated and I realised I wouldn’t reach the ferry in time. Never mind, I’d just have to get a taxi. I’d phone from Bigbury-on-Sea, the nearest place to the ferry crossing.

Nemesis wasn’t going to let me off that easily. Sparing you the full story, dear Reader, Bigbury-on-Sea isn’t very Big. A phone signal was hard to find. I threw myself on the mercy of the nice people at the Henley Hotel and sat in their lounge while I phoned seven different taxi services, none of which could or would take me on the thirty minute drive around the estuary. “You should have booked yesterday”, two of them said. The Henley Hotel couldn’t offer me a bed or a meal, and anyway my bag was at The Sloop in Bantham, across the river. I finally called back to the lovely Suzi, aka Merlin Taxis, who on my first call had said she couldn’t collect me before 8.00, who now said she could take me if I didn’t mind waiting. She’d definitely pick me up before 9.00.

And so I finally reached my overnight stop at 9.15. Tired, exhausted, and with a sore knee I went straight to my room and collapsed onto the bed.